


Quaranta Giorni

by Evenstar656



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenstar656/pseuds/Evenstar656
Summary: McCoy checked the lab to make sure he was alone before dialing up the hypospray and injecting its contents into his carotid. He felt his chest hitch as the rush of the stimulants flooded his brain.  He wanted to feel shame but the crew, and Jim, were teetering on the edge of a knife and needed him to find answers.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 159





	Quaranta Giorni

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: General AOS, Post Beyond
> 
> Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: Just a bit of shameless h/c. As always, although I am a doctor I’m not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree. Although the AOS movies and TOS never really addressed the number of medical professionals on board, I’ve always pictured it as McCoy and M’Benga the attendings with a handful of junior medical doctors underneath them (excluding nursing staff under Chapel). 
> 
> Warnings: Explicit McKirk. Language. The inspiration was obviously from current events and if you find that uncomfortable you may want to skip this one.
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta’d

### 

“This inquiry calls Lieutenant Commander McCoy, Chief Medical Officer, _USS Enterprise_.”

McCoy swallowed hard and made his way to the podium placed in the center of the room. The panel of five flag officers on the raised bench before him did not look happy. 

“Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy reporting as ordered sirs,” he snapped to attention. 

“At ease,” an admiral from the end tersely ordered.

McCoy relaxed his stance and grabbed hold of the podium with both hands; he was going to need all of the support he could get. The panel included the Surgeon General, Admiral Donaldson, and several other high-ranking Starfleet Medical officers. The starbase’s commanding officer stood in as the representative from Starfleet Command.

_Oh boy._

Things were not good if the head of the medical corps came all the way to a starbase past the Sol system to hand his ass to him. He wanted to pull at the suffocating collar of his dress uniform around his throat.

“This inquiry is called to order,” Admiral Donaldson bellowed.

 _Here it comes_.

“Doctor McCoy...”

_So it’s going to be that kind of tribunal where they insult my intelligence as a doctor._

“... we are here to determine the circumstances which lead to the infection of nearly sixty percent of the entire _Enterprise_ crew, sickbay admittance of 157 personnel, and the subsequent death of 39 crewmembers.”

McCoy broke out in a nervous sweat; those statistics had haunted him over the past weeks as he struggled to regain ground over the microscopic invaders on his ship.

“As this is a fact finding exercise you are not required to retain legal representation but at any point you may request a halt to these proceedings to request legal representation. Do you understand, Doctor McCoy?”

“I do, sirs.”

He tried to breathe through the anxiety; they could only do so much to him without an attorney present.

“Very well, let’s start at the beginning.”

###

“What’s got you all riled up?” McCoy said as he was pushed down to the bed.

“I missed you,” Jim stood between his legs and dipped down to kiss the doctor deeply.

“Not that I’m complain’, but I just got off shift. I’ve barely had time to kick my boots off and you had all of alpha to sleep in,” McCoy said in between pulls on his lips.

Jim silenced any more talk from McCoy by sealing off his mouth with his own. He only paused long enough to let the suddenly willing man pull his shirts over his head. 

“Uh huh, now who’s complaining?” Jim pulled McCoy’s rumpled shirts off and undid the fly on the tightening pants. 

McCoy growled and shimmied his pants the rest of the way off. “Fair’s fair,” he said before removing Jim’s pants.

“I just got dressed for shift,” Jim whined as he moved his mouth down to the hollow of McCoy’s throat.

“Should’ve thought about that before you jumped me you horny bastard,” McCoy’s voice was husky with desire.

McCoy was unable to suppress the groan as Jim began paying attention to the spot under his collarbone that always made him react. He was already half hard when Jim pounced but now he was fully erect. Jim slipped a warm hand under the band of his shorts and the touch was almost too intense to handle.

“Jesus Christ,” McCoy grunted.

“Actually it’s ‘Jim’,” the little bastard smirked.

“You wish you were as smooth as you thought,” McCoy shivered when the pad of Jim’s thumb feathered his tip.

“That’s not what the rest of you thinks.”

McCoy had to grab the comforter as Jim left a trail of kisses down his stomach. Jim had just shimmied McCoy’s shorts to the floor when a chirping from the discarded pants killed the mood.

“You gotta be kidding me,” McCoy looked down at Jim whose mouth hovered over his waiting erection.

“It can wait,” Jim inched closer but the chirping continued.

“If it was the Bridge you’d answer it in a heartbeat,” McCoy begrudgingly pushed Jim off of him and scampered to the pile of clothing on the floor; his body already reacting to the disappointment of the ruined moment.

“I know,” Jim huffed from his back.

“McCoy here,” the doctor found the device and flipped it open.

_“Sorry, Doctor McCoy, I know you just left.”_

“It’s fine, Hayes. Whatcha need?” McCoy knew the battle was lost and pulled up his shorts.

_“Crewman Bisset is back. She’s complaining of shortness of breath now and her temperature has spiked. Geoff is doing a hernia repair.”_

McCoy frowned; he’d seen the weapons technician for mild flu-like symptoms the day before. She had responded well to the supportive meds she was given and sent back to her quarters to rest. Whatever it was seemed serious enough for Hayes to find either him or M’Benga and not one of their junior physicians.

“Be right there, Hayes. Start her on O2 and keep a sharp eye on her sats until I get there.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

The doctor quickly dressed.

“That doesn’t sound good, Bones,” Jim picked up his shirts, having already put his pants and boots back on.

“Yeah, not sure why she’s still havin’ problems. I saw her yesterday at sick call and she didn’t seem that bad,” McCoy sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

“I’ll head out with you, I’m due up on the Bridge in an hour anyways,” Jim zipped his own pants as they headed towards the doorway.

McCoy was about to open the door when Jim’s hand grabbed his bicep and zipped up the back of his blue tunic for him, “Let me know how she is when you’re finished.”

“Of course, darlin’,” McCoy left with a quick peck to Jim’s cheek.

The doctor was more irritated for being called away from Jim until the doors opened to sickbay and he saw the crewman gasping for air on a biobed in the main bay. Nurse Hayes looked concerned as she cranked up the O2 flow on the mask over the woman’s mouth and nose.

“What happened?”

“Scans are showing a lot of fluid build up.”

McCoy’s mind immediately went into crisis mode, “Tilt the head up.”

Hayes obeyed and brought the head of the biobed to nearly upright to help the poor crewman breathe. The nurse knew this was a serious turn of events and began divesting the ailing woman of her pajamas and getting her into a patient gown.

“Alright Miss Bisset, Hayes tells me you’re having trouble breathin’. Do you know about how long ago this started?”

McCoy laid a comforting hand on the woman’s tense arm as he looked up at the screen above her head.

“It only...got...this bad...before...I came...here,” she gasped despite the oxygen.

“Okay. Any of your flu symptoms change?” McCoy noted she was running a higher fever than he remembered.

“More...aches.”

Hayes wordlessly attached a vial to the end of the oxygen mask.

“Miss Bisset, we’re going to give you some medicine to open up your airways. All you have to do is relax and breathe it in. Try and take nice deep breaths for me,” McCoy pulled apart the two ends of their visual scanner and held it over her heaving chest.

The crewman nodded and focused on breathing the aerosolized medicine. 

The doctor was shocked she’d deteriorated so rapidly, “There’s definitely a lot of fluid in here that wasn’t there yesterday. Let’s get a set of blood cultures. Miss Bisset, have you been coughing much?”

The crewman shook her head ‘yes’.

“Let’s get a swab of her airways and run that as well.”

He saw Hayes nod out of the corner of his eye as he left the bedside to grab IV supplies. The nurse took her samples and disappeared into the room that held their larger diagnostic equipment.

“Okay, Miss Bisset, we’re gonna be doing a lot of things but they’re gonna make you more comfortable. Just keep breathin’ like you’re doing and we’ll get this taken care of in no time.

The crewman nodded as McCoy slipped an IV autostarter over her arm and nestled it into the crook of her elbow.

“Little pinch,” McCoy warned, powering up the tiny control screen.

The woman didn’t flinch and he connected the IV tubing he had ready. 

“Feelin’ any better?” the doctor noticed the breathing treatment was almost done.

Bisset rocked her hand back and forth for ‘so-so’. McCoy nodded and connected the bags of fluid and antimicrobials to the IV pump.

“What did it say?” he saw Hayes come back with a data pad in her hands.

“It came back unknown,” she handed him the data pad.

McCoy scanned the readout; they were going to need to take a deeper look. “Can you go mount it on the microscope? I’ll go take a look when I finish.”

“Yes, sir,” she took back the data pad and left for their research lab.

McCoy scanned the vitals display and his patient again, “We’ll give all this a little time to start working, I need to go take a look at the viewer.”

Bisset nodded and continued to breathe heavily into the mask.

“It’s ready,” Hayes said as she passed her boss at the doorway to their lab space.

“Thanks, keep an eye on her. Whatever this is, hit her fast.”

McCoy was determined as he dropped down onto the stool and pushed his face into the eyepiece.

“Find anything?” M’Benga interrupted from the doorway.

McCoy pulled back from the viewer and noted almost an hour had passed by.

“Maybe?” he pushed the image to the large display screen. “Came back unknown.”

“It definitely looks like an influenza virion,” M’Benga studied the particle on the screen.

The particle was spherical with spiny projections over its outer surface.

“Yeah, sequencer isn’t done yet,” McCoy nodded to the sleek instrument that was decoding the genetic material inside the cell. “Hernia repair went well?”

“Yeah, no issues. I put him in the main bay to finish waking up and then I’ll discharge.”

McCoy nodded absentmindedly and manipulated the image on the screen.

###

“So that was the first time you encountered the virus, Doctor McCoy?”

McCoy paused his story of Crewman Bisset to take a drink of water from the glass provided.

“Technically, yes.”

“Technically?” a shrewd woman peered down on him over her glasses.

“That was the first instance that we identified the unknown influenza’s cellular structure. Upon tracing analysis we did later, we found that there were several other instances of the virus in sickbay but cultures were not taken as the patients had presented with mild upper respiratory symptoms and responded well to standard treatment protocols.”

“You didn’t test the previous crewmen?” she asked.

“We tested for antibodies at a later time. At that point we had no reason to suspect it was anything other than the normal viruses seen in confined shipboard operations.”

“Did Crewman Bisset continue to deteriorate?” the woman continued.

“No, she responded to the treatments.”

###

“McCoy!” Nurse Chapel yelled across the room microseconds before the vitals alarm began to wail over the biobed of a lieutenant from the astronomy lab.

McCoy knew the no-nonsense nurse rarely yelled and he immediately dropped the micropipette onto the lab bench and rushed into the bay. The nurse slammed the head of the biobed flat as the doctor skidded to a halt at the lieutenant’s side.

“Sats tanked out of nowhere. The biobed’s emergency ventilation couldn’t sync,” Chapel sealed a tight mask over the man’s face and activated it.

“Can we get another pair of hands?” McCoy called out into the bay as he yanked open a drawer on the resuscitation cart.

“Right here!” M’Benga, coming on shift, answered from the door. “Allergy or ARDS?”

“I’m reading resistance,” Chapel said from the head of the biobed.

M’Benga took over while Chapel moved to start an IV line.

“Looks like ARDS,” McCoy loaded the drugs he needed into a hypospray.

“Is this the first one needing to be intubated?” M’Benga readied an ET tube and scope.

“Yeah, Kim has been the most serious since Bisset. You’re good to go,” McCoy injected the paralytics and sedatives into the lieutenant.

M’Benga removed the mask and deftly threaded the tube down the man’s filled airway, “There’s a lot of fluid in here.”

The vitals alarm silenced itself once the sensors detected it’s charge began receiving adequate oxygen.

“What the hell?” McCoy stood dumbfounded at the man’s sudden deterioration. 

“He has that same virus as Bisset?” M’Benga asked, checking the settings on the panel controlling the bifurcated hose connected to the ET tube.

“Yes,” Chapel finished setting up an IV. “He responded well to the breathing treatment and was waiting to be sent back to his quarters.”

“Have they come into contact with each other?”

“We can initiate the contact tracing but they don’t socialize in the same circles nor are they in the same department.”

“I’ll pick up where you left off in the lab once I get him settled. You head off shift as planned.”

McCoy reluctantly nodded, “Comm me if anything changes.”

He walked back to Jim’s quarters in a confused stupor. 

“Everything okay?” Jim looked up from the sofa where he had piles of data pads strewn all over the low table.

“I guess?” McCoy wearily dropped to the sofa.

“What is it? Is Bisset not recovering?”

As captain, Jim was privy to crew in sickbay and their general conditions.

“No she’s doin’ about the same. Lieutenant Kim from astronomy decided to de-sat right before I left. He’s not seeing or hanging out with Bisset is he?”

Jim rifled through the data pads, “Not that I know of, he tends to socialize with a group from botany. Do you think they had the same thing?”

“Well they certainly had the same virus, but no way of getting it from each other and no one else has come to sickbay sick with it.”

“Huh, do we need to convene the senior crew?”

McCoy thought hard about it, “I don’t think so. It’s definitely an influenza of some kind, just an extremely annoying one at that.”

Jim trusted his CMO’s decision and went on about his day.

###

“Lieutenant Kim was the first to be intubated?” a different admiral asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Was he the only other person to present with the flu symptoms to sick bay after Bisset?” the man asked without looking up from the data pad in his hands.

“No, sir. There was about two days between the two of them comin’ into sickbay. During that time we had a few with the virus that showed mild enough URI symptoms they were sent back to their quarters. No one else required anything quite so dramatic. Crewman Bisset ended up responding well enough to the non-invasive respiratory therapies and medications. Her fever only lasted a couple of days.”

“Did Kim have a fever?”

“He had a low one compared to Bisset.”

“Did you inform Captain Kirk of a possible infectious agent?”

“I informed him of the general conditions of the crew admitted in sickbay but at the time we determined that neither of those two people would’ve had social or professional contact with each other and they had responded very differently to the same pathogen.”

“Was any more work completed on the structure by this time?”

“Yes, sir. We had the genetic material sequenced and the surface proteins identified. It contained all of the standard markers and proteins of an influenza.”

“Was it manufactured or natural?” the admiral finally put down the data pad.

“I don’t know, you’d have to defer to xenomicrobiologists for that answer.”

###

“Captain, I need to speak with you,” McCoy was serious.

Jim looked up from his chair on the Bridge.

“You have the conn, Mister Sulu,” Jim pushed himself from the chair and ushered the man to the conference room.

McCoy waited for the doors to close before he began, “We need to suspend the social activities on board.”

“What for?” the doctor was asking for a lot given the confined nature of the ship.

“We had four more cases of that mystery flu come in last night and this morning.”

“It’s infectious?”

“All influenzas are infectious, but this one is acting differently. None of the patients could recall ever bumpin’ into each other. I don’t know if that means they’re picking it up from surfaces or what.”

“Can we just limit the group sizes instead of canceling everything outright?”

“That’s better than nothing if that’s all you can do.”

“Are the others as sick?”

“One is, he’s a water management technician. I haven’t had to intubate yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Geoff will probably have to do it tonight.”

Jim nodded somberly, “I’ll make the announcement myself. Is there anything you folks need down there?”

“I don’t think so, Jim. We still have space for a few more patients. Any more and we might need to expand to auxiliary.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” McCoy nodded and made a move to leave but was stopped by Jim’s hand on his arm, “Are you doing okay, Bones? I haven’t seen you in a few nights.”

“Yeah, Jim. Just don’t want to keep waking you up with all the late nights or early calls.”

“You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

“I know, but if we don’t get a handle on this it could get ugly, Jim.”

“Okay, do you need me to get the science lab involved?”

“No, we’re not completely swamped but there’s been definite uptick in admissions. Everything going well up here?”

“Yeah, same as always. We have a diplomat run to go make, we’ll be in transit for a few more days.”

“Good, don’t have to worry about you beaming into a trap or some other shit,” McCoy teased.

“Hey now,” Jim pulled the man close.

“What? I don’t have the capacity to deal with this and you bleeding all over my boots.”

“Yeah yeah.”

###

“Who was the first casualty, Doctor McCoy?” the Surgeon General asked.

“It was the water management technician, Crewman Thomas. He was stable while intubated for three days before he declined to the point where we were unable to resuscitate him. At that time we had probably a dozen more admissions with the new influenza and we were forced to use the auxiliary sick bay to hold the overflow.”

“By this time only minimal social distancing measures were enacted?”

“Yes, sir. The science lab had begun social contact tracing of the infected crew after Crewman Thomas’s death. It was then that we discovered that the incubation of this virus was nearly three weeks long which coincided with the previous resupply stop at Starbase 4 outside of the Laurentian system. Captain Kirk immediately initiated stricter social restrictions on the crew in response to help slow the spread but given the lengthy incubation the damage had already been done.”

###

“What do we do now, Doctor McCoy?” Jim asked from his seat at the head of the long table in the ready room.

“Tracing analysis says this thing has been brewin’ for over two and a half weeks. The weirdest thing is not everyone is getting it at the same severity if they’re getting it at all. There could be people who have it and maybe feel just a little under the weather and then others I’m having to shove a tube down their throat and ventilate.”

“There is nothing in common with the four crewmen who’ve died?” Spock asked as he tabbed through the data on his screen.

“No shared comorbidities if that’s what you’re askin’.” 

“What have we done with the bodies?” Uhura asked. “I’ve almost got the data packets to their next of kin ready for you to approve them, sir.”

“Bones?” Jim looked down at the exhausted CMO.

“We’ve got them in stasis in Cargo 2 for now.”

“Doctor, by your projections this virus will consume the crew complement in eleven days,” Spock pushed the graph to the main screen.

“That’s what we thought too, but I think most of the folks here are passing it unknowingly because they aren’t showing symptoms.”

“Can we test everyone?” Jim studied the upward line.

“That’s certainly the best answer, but I don’t have the staff to test some five hundred odd people _and_ provide care for those who are ill enough to need care. There are certainly some folks we’ve allowed to stay in their own quarters because it’s presenting as a mild cold to them. The science lab can take some of the burden if they’re able. The tests aren’t instantaneous but we can get them done that way.”

“Spock, can you handle this?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“They’re going to need to wear PPE, Jim. Gowns, gloves, masks, the works. We’ve started wearing it all in sickbay, but we are running low on the single use items.”

“Scotty?”

“We’ll repurpose the material sequencers. Get me a list of what and how much you need. We’ll need ta drop out of warp if we’re to put that much of a power strain on the EPS grid,” Scotty sent a note to his second in command to be ready to switch over the sequencers.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, “What’s the plan to take care of the rest of the crew as the numbers increase?”

“We’ll use the humanitarian supplies and set up a field hospital in the large rec room. We can keep the less critical patients there and keep the ones that need invasive monitoring in the sickbays.” 

“Is that all?”

“For now, Captain,” McCoy rubbed his face wearily.

“All right folks, dismissed. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at 0830 for the daily update.”

Everyone stood at attention before filing out of the room.

“Bones?” McCoy remained seated.

“Did I fuck this up, Jim?”

“What? No, Bones. How were you supposed to know it would get this bad?”

“Supposedly I studied how infectious diseases operate in space. Fucking disease and danger wrapped in silence and darkness.”

“Bones, this isn’t your fault,” Jim clapped the man on his shoulder.

“I should’ve known a week ago with Bisset.”

“And how were you supposed to know? You said so yourself this has been on the ship for almost a month, and how were we supposed to know if no one was sick?”

McCoy was silent.

“You can’t second guess yourself now.”

_“Engineering to Captain Kirk.”_

“Yes, Mister Scott?”

_“We’re ready ta drop out of warp when you are. Doctor M’Benga is gettin’ us a list together for the material sequencers.”_

“Thanks, Mister Scott. I’m on my way to the Bridge.”

“I won’t keep you, Jim,” McCoy pushed out of the chair.

“You’re taking care of yourself right?”

“Boy that’s the pot calling the kettle black. You look like you haven’t slept in days either.”

Jim rolled his eyes, “Bones, please.”

“I am, Jim. You’ll need to be tested since we uh, we’ve been together since then and I almost certainly have been exposed.”

“Sure thing, Bones. Let me worry about getting them looked at.”

###

“What happened then, Doctor McCoy?” Donaldson continued to question him.

“Understandably it got much worse.”

“The doubling rate?”

“The doubling rate at the time we dropped out of warp was every 1.3 days. It was only hours later before we had to set up an overflow ward in the rec room.”

“Was that when Captain Kirk requested help?”

“I think so, sir. I am honestly not sure when they sent the distress comm. We had to stop Engineering from fabricating PPE and have them make medical equipment. We were out of biobeds with respiratory control and had to use stand-alone devices. We also ran out of IV poles, vitals monitoring devices, hyposprays, and pretty much everything else. We were also running extremely low on consumables like saline, paralytics and sedatives, antipyretics, cannulas, foleys, those kinds of things.”

“And the medical staff?”

“Beyond, exhausted. We lost Nurse Reinking and two orderlies.”

“How so?”

“Reinking died, the orderlies were ill. They ended up recovering.”

“Were they exposed from taking care of the ill crew members?”

“Tracing analysis suggested they were exposed during the supply stop or shortly after.”

###

“Bones, have a minute?” Jim tapped the side of the plastic that created a sealed airlock inside the rec room.

“It has to be quick, Jim,” McCoy stepped into the first door and discarded his gown, gloves, mask, and face shield before a biocide mist was dispersed into the small enclosure.

“Sorry, didn’t want to pull you out unless I needed to,” Jim said as soon as the doctor exited the second door.

“It’s fine.”

Jim eyed the man who looked downright haggard and his heart wanted to break. There was very little he could do to ease his burden.

“The _Nightingale_ will be here in seventy two hours and Chekov may have solved your vitals monitoring problem.”

“They can’t get here any faster?” McCoy was past his eyeballs with sick patients.

“They don’t have the warp drive we do and we can’t engage ours to go meet them if we want to keep fabricating equipment.”

McCoy nodded wearily.

“You okay?”

“No, Jim, but what did Chekov come up with?”

Jim wanted to hug the man and give him support, but knew because contact between crew was now prohibited to limit the spread of the virus.

“He found schematics for an old type of heart monitoring sensor and finger oxygen thing that Scotty said they can make a lot of and make them really easily. Some kind of adhesive pad and wired sensor.”

“And how do we read the signal?” 

“He’s come up with an adapter that can plug into the data pads. Spock has a team creating a crude monitoring code you can download to make it easier for your team.”

McCoy was too tired to show any appreciation. 

“Have you gotten any rest?” 

McCoy wasn’t about to admit he had dosed himself with stims two hours ago, “Naps here and there.”

Jim was sure the man had lied but couldn’t afford to call him out on it since he was fighting tooth and nail to keep his crew alive.

“How’s Uhura?” Jim asked softly.

“Refusing to rest, ornery as usual. She’d be normal if she didn’t have to carry around an oxygen tank.”

“Spock is struggling without her on the Bridge.”

“I know, I’m doing what I can.”

“Speaking of oxygen, are you guys okay on cylinders? I can get another batch refilled.”

“I have no idea.”

“It’s okay, I’ll go check for you.”

“Thanks—“

“Doctor!” a shout came from inside the makeshift ward.

“Sorry, Jim,” McCoy threw over his shoulder as he rushed back into the airlock.

Jim sighed heavily at the sight on the other side of the flimsy plastic that tried to keep the rest of the ship safe. There were several rows of cot after cot lined up next to each other, each one occupied with a sick crewmember. It was a sight out of the history books. They weren’t even allowed any privacy unless the few medical staff set up portable curtains as needed for certain tasks and treatments.

###

“What happened during that time and when the _Nightingale_ arrived? There are reports that you were rationing care,” the shrewd woman was at it again.

McCoy sucked in a deep breath, “Yes, I initiated a rationing system for our remaining resources. We had consumed nearly all of the ship’s supply of antivirals, antibiotics, sedatives, paralytics, antihistamines, antipyretics, and anticoagulants. We had a team on the phamasynths in the research labs but they couldn’t keep up with the demand. By that point we were using any crew with any kind of first aid training and still upright to help us because we had so many folks intubated. We were hanging on by the skin of our teeth, sirs.”

“How many were lost during this period?”

McCoy wracked his brain, “Twenty three during those seventy two hours.”

No one on the panel showed any emotion as they continued to tap away at their data pads. He could sense their disappointment in him.

“Was this when Captain Kirk fell ill?”

###

“Leonard,” a soft voice called out.

He was so exhausted he didn’t even budge and the owner of the voice had to shake him.

“I’m sorry, Leonard. I know it’s still a little bit before you’re on again...”

There was a long huff before he opened his lead filled eyelids.

“What is it?” he didn’t mean to growl at Chapel, she was just as tired and overworked as he was.

“It’s Jim…”

With that name he was immediately alert and on his feet, “Where is he?”

“Rec room. I just got him in a bed and started O2 and an IV. His temp was 38.5 so I gave him 500 migs of acetaminophen for now.”

“He’s short of breath?” he was furious Jim didn’t come to him.

“Don’t be angry with him, he thought he was worn down and you already had enough on your plate.”

McCoy pulled on his boots and tried to smooth down his wrinkled scrubs.

“Why’s he in the rec room?” he pushed off the low cot that had been set up in a nearby lounge for the medical staff.

“One - there’s no beds in the bays, two - he’s not that bad, and lastly - he wanted to be with the crew. He made it abundantly clear he didn’t want special treatment while I was starting his line.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when he was admitted?” McCoy strode off down the corridor with the nurse chasing him.

“Because we knew you needed the rest.”

They stopped at the airlock to don their gear. There was a slight tremor in his hands as he tied a protective gown over his scrubs. He was sure Chapel saw it but she didn’t say anything because they couldn’t lose a doctor.

“Where’s he at?” McCoy pulled down the face shield over his mask.

“I put him in the left corner,” Chapel, equally suited up, followed.

McCoy could only focus on getting to Jim as quickly as his tired legs would carry him. He sunk down onto the low stool that waited for him at Jim’s side.

“Dammit, Jim,” he brushed a sweaty blond lock off the man’s fevered forehead.

Jim, who had been dozing; awakened quickly and took a deep pull of the oxygen from the cannula in his nostrils, “Hey, Bones.”

“Why didn’t you come tell me?” McCoy grabbed hold of Jim’s fevered hand, careful not to disturb the wired sensor wrapped around his index finger.

Jim gave the gloved hand a reassuring squeeze, “You’ve done so much already, and I wasn’t going to add this. I know you’d do nothing but worry.”

The doctor’s trained eyes flicked to the data pad clipped to the hastily welded IV pole that displayed the man’s vital signs from wires that trailed under the neck of his gown. The captain really wasn’t doing too bad, but he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach that had formed. Jim never made anything simple.

“Did they get these on right? We’ve been having issues with the adh—,” McCoy had pulled up the neck of the gown to inspect the leads.

“Bones, they’re fine,” Jim swatted at McCoy’s hands.

McCoy was torn, the ship needed him and Jim needed him, but his brain was so tired that he knew he wasn’t thinking rationally. He wanted nothing more than to sit and take care of _his_ Jim. His heart ached to kiss the man but there was no privacy in the converted ward. The best he could do at the moment was to pull the blanket higher and smooth out its edges.

“Before you twist your eyebrows into knots, always choose the crew.”

“I know, Jim. I’m just so damned tired.”

“The _Nightingale_ should be here in another thirty six hours with supplies and medical personnel.”

McCoy nodded, he just had to keep the ship together a little longer until relief arrived.

“Go back and rest, Bones. I told Chapel not to wake you but she did it anyway.”

“Because she knows who her boss is,” McCoy arched his eyebrow.

“Please, I’m the captain of this vessel. I’m everyone’s boss.”

“Well Mister Captain, does your swelled head need another pillow to hold it up?”

“I’m fine, Bones. If you don’t leave me I’m gonna take one of these sticky things off so your staff runs over here and I order them to toss you out of here,” Jim wiggled his index finger with the sensor around it.

“Okay, get some rest, darlin’. I’ll be back soon anyways to relieve Geoff,” McCoy gave Jim’s hand a final squeeze before he set it down on the man’s stomach.

“Don’t worry, too many eyes to try and make an escape attempt.”

Now McCoy knew the captain was feeling worse than he let on if he wasn’t even plotting to escape.

“Behave, Jim,” McCoy reluctantly pushed to his aching feet.

“I’ll be the best patient here,” Jim managed a smirk.

“I’ll tell Chapel you need an enema to get rid of all that bullshit inside you.”

McCoy couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied as the grin deflated and turned into panic when he walked away.

###

“Captain Kirk was admitted to the general ward with mild symptoms that were initially well controlled with a minimally aggressive treatment.”

“Was Commander Spock in command?” Donaldson has drawn himself up to his full and imposing stature.

“Yes, sir.”

“Based on your initial data packet this virus appeared to not affect the non-human members of the crew at all.”

“That is correct. We noticed early on that the Earth born humans were the most susceptible to this virus and we had no reported admissions of any non humans or humans not originally from Earth for that matter. Once we identified that commonality we instituted further restrictions on the Terran humans to further slow the spread.”

“Some sort of inborn susceptibility?”

“Yes, that is the working theory. This appears to be something that humans are exposed to elsewhere and develop immunities against it, but I have yet to follow up on the observations.”

“You never became ill, Doctor McCoy.”

“No sir, I did not. I’m not sure if it’s because I routinely get exposed to so many pathogens. We did check my antibodies, and everyone else’s in Medical afterwards, and we all had been exposed to it. As you said earlier, only three of us displayed a response to the virus.”

“What happened when the _Nightingale_ arrived?”

###

“We need to intubate, Leonard,” M’Benga stood over Jim with the scanner held over his struggling chest.

McCoy scowled at the image of fluid filled lungs, “I know. Ensign Klosin also needs to be intubated but we only have enough ketamine and succs for one RSI and it’s maintenance.”

“How soon until the relief ship gets here?” Chapel tightened the straps on the bulky face mask pushing oxygen into Jim’s nose and mouth.

“Six hours if they're still on schedule,” M’Benga pushed the ends of the scanner back together.

“Which one is worse off?” McCoy felt like a complete failure for having to ask.

“Klosin, but marginally.”

He wished he had struggled with his decision more than he did, “Intubate the ensign.”

Chapel and M’Benga exchanged looks with each other.

“Is there a problem?” the CMO snapped.

“No, Leonard,” M’Benga acquiesced softly.

“I want Jim prone when you finish with Klosin,”

“Drain the lungs?”

“Yeah, let’s see if that does anything to buy us some more time.”

Chapel hurried to finish and follow the other attending, leaving McCoy alone with Jim. McCoy pursed his lips in frustration and slumped onto the stool. He stared helplessly at the man struggling to breathe. Just because it was the right decision didn’t make it hurt any less . His stomach was twisted in knots over what his order meant but Jim would never want to be chosen over another member of his crew. 

“Forgive me, Jim.”

It was his turn to rest but he couldn’t take himself away from Jim’s side even though they didn’t have the privacy sickbay usually provided for his vigils. He couldn’t even bear to step away when they came back to turn Jim’s pliant body onto his stomach. 

He’s not sure how long he sat there willing Jim to keep breathing by sheer force alone when he was shaken to awareness by one of the orderlies.

“The _Nightingale_ is here, sir. The first group is headed over now.”

He hesitated asking the woman if she can sit with her captain but decided against it knowing how many people in this room and the other two sickbays needed her help.

“Thanks. Can you get him rotated?” he gave Jim one last look before leaving for the airlock.

“How is the Captain?” Spock was waiting for him outside the airlock.

McCoy could only shake his head and thank his lucky stars that Spock didn’t question further.

“How is Nyota?”

“Working instead of restin’ like she’s supposed to. Every time I walk down her row she’s up doing something on a data pad the nurses keep sneaking her.”

“You could simply take it away, Doctor.”

“No way José, I’m more afraid of her than you.”

“Captain Austin is on her way with a preliminary relief team. We’ll coordinate more sustained efforts once they’ve assessed our situation,” Spock quickly changed the subject.

“We’re already here, Commander,” a tall dark South African woman with peppered hair rounded the corner with a dozen people behind here. “You look like hell, Leonard.”

“Always good to see you too, Betty.”

“Your arrival is most convenient.”

“Yeah, I had our engineer put his foot on the pedal. We heard it was bad.”

“Bad is putting it politely.”

“Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

“If you brought your pharmacy I need to intubate before the grand tour.”

“Always ready to dive in, what do you need?”

McCoy rattled off the list of drugs they needed. A member of the group headed off in a sprint back to their ship.

“Have you done any work towards a vaccine or antiviral?” Austin followed McCoy as he headed towards the rec room.

“Honestly no, it’s been hard enough to keep up with the patient care. There are a couple of science teams looking into it but we’ve had to keep folks in their quarters to slow the spread. We can’t even get antibody testing done right now. All we can say for certain is that it’s spread through respiratory fluids and has an incubation of around two and a half weeks.”

“Oh boy,” Austin whistled.

“Yeah, it gets better. Not everyone gets it or gets it to the same severity. It seems pretty attracted to Terran born humans with no shared comorbidities. The only similarity is those who’ve died and needed to be tubed is that they all had cytokine responses. We’ve been keeping them dry and flooding them with antihistamines, which seems to work well enough. Steroids were making them worse.”

“You sure know how to pick them, Leonard.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” they stepped into the airlock.

“Okay, I know you and your team are swamped, but can your guys hang on a little longer so we can get my teams up and going?”

“Yeah, we’ve got the docs and nurses on twelve hour shifts with M’Benga and I covering as needed between here and the sickbays where we’ve got the critical.”

They stepped into the rec room in their protective gear.

“Shit,” Austin took in the sight of the rows of cots holding the sick crewmembers. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, both main and auxiliary are full too. The good news is there are plenty of people well enough to stay in their quarters and self report their vitals.”

“Who needed intubating?”

McCoy grabbed a ventilator from the pile on a supply shelf and led the captain to Jim’s side, “Captain Kirk. We ran out of the induction drugs a few hours ago.”

“You’re using that?” Austin eyed the ship-made contraption.

“Yeah, our engineers have really saved our asses,” McCoy grabbed another kit with his empty hand.

McCoy dropped to his knees behind Jim’s head when they reached the captain’s cot. Austin took a long survey of the room while McCoy set up the kits. 

She tossed a hand up when she saw her technician enter the airlock, “He’s coming in now.”

McCoy nodded as he pulled Jim’s pillow away and pulled his chin upwards.

“Jim?” McCoy waited for a response from the man. “Jim, if you can hear me we’re going to sedate you and put a tube down your throat to help you breathe.”

Again there was no response other than the wet and haggard rasp of the ailing captain. It was a real struggle not to run his hands through the tousled locks or provide a comforting hand before he sent Jim further into oblivion. He had to swallow a lump that formed in his throat at the thought that Jim could never wake up from this battle. 

“What are those?” Austin pulled at the neck of Jim’s gown to inspect the strange wires.

McCoy felt a sharp pang of protectiveness at the other doctor helping herself to examine Jim, “We ran out of monitoring sensors so we made our own. There’s also one on his finger to watch his sats. Apparently this is how it was done a long time ago and we were able to reproduce ‘em from some schematics that were found. We never could get a good one for BPs though.”

“That’s bloody brilliant.”

The CMO ignored the compliment; it was just something they had to do to solve a problem.

“Here,” the _Nightingale_ technician dropped a kit full of pharmaceuticals at McCoy’s side.

“Thanks. Go find Head Nurse…”

“Chapel,” McCoy already gathered what he needed and was injecting them into an IV port.

“Chapel and see what you can get your team to help with.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

McCoy had expertly threaded the tube down Jim’s airways by the time the technician disappeared down the row of cots.

“Jesus that was fast,” the other doctor was stunned at her colleague’s speed.

“Too much practice lately,” McCoy grimaced.

The tube was secured, the ventilator connected, maintenance drugs hooked up to the IV line, and the pillow was replaced before the two physicians continued their tour of the ward. McCoy couldn’t help but sneak glances in Jim’s direction every time Austin’s gaze was preoccupied.

### 

“You’re confirming that you chose to delay Captain Kirk’s treatment?” the Surgeon General peered down at him.

McCoy’s anger flashed, “I didn’t choose to be inundated with sick people that used up all of the supplies we had. Captain Kirk was not the only patient to have their care delayed.”

“He was the Captain.”

“I don’t treat my patients by rank, _sir_. I treat them according to the seriousness of their condition.”

McCoy had to take a few deep breaths to calm down.

“What was the outcome of...Ensign Klosin?”

“She died,” McCoy was doing his best not to lose his shit that it was insinuated that Jim should’ve been given priority if she was going to die anyways.

“I see.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say to that, sir. We, _I_ , had a job to do and we had to do it at all costs to keep the crew alive. No physician ever wants to be out in the position where they have to decide who gets what little can be given.”

Donaldson moved like he was going to challenge the CMO again but sat back in his chair, “Captain Austin’s report said that the _Enterprise_ medical staff was put on stand down for twenty four hours?”

“That is correct. Once we got them oriented we were relieved.”

“And what did you do during that time?”

“I worked in the lab.”

###

McCoy checked the lab to make sure he was alone before dialing up the hypospray and injecting its contents into his carotid. He felt his chest hitch as the rush of the stimulants flooded his brain. The screen behind the viewer came into sharp focus. He wanted to feel shame but the crew, and Jim, were teetering on the edge of a knife and needed him to find answers.

He called up the results from the latest batch of experiments. The _Nightingale_ ’ _s_ crew had taken over patient care and dismissed him and his staff for twenty-four hours to get much needed rest. Instead he had gone straight to a science lab and started working.

None of the antivirals he had access to had any effect on the viral invaders laying siege to his shipmates, and he wanted to bang his head on the bench out of frustration. 

“Damn it,” he hurled the data pad at the wall next to the door

“Doctor?” the flying data pad barely missed Spock’s head.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t see ya there,” McCoy reddened.

Spock retrieved the data pad and set it down on the bench far away from the doctor, “I presume there are difficulties locating a more effective means to halt the virus?”

“Yeah, Spock. Nothing of what either of the ships have on board is useful.”

“I could assign an additional science team to the efforts.”

“I don’t think that would help.”

“Very well. How is Nyota?”

“No change, Spock.”

“That is…discouraging to hear.”

“Be grateful she’s not getting worse. It’s a good sign.”

Spock saw a display screen with a running feed of vital signs, “How is Jim?”

McCoy’s eyes flicked to the screen with the vitals and confirmed the First Officer’s hypothesis.

“Barely hanging in there. That asshole is in the middle of a damn cytokine storm on top of all this ARDS shit.”

“His prognosis?”

McCoy didn’t answer.

“Well I have faith—“

“Oh boy, a Vulcan talking about ‘faith’”

Spock knew the human was beyond exhausted and lacking what little emotional control he usually displayed, “I have confidence in you, Leonard, that the solution is inside you—“

McCoy listened half-heartedly but his brain seized when he processed the words. 

_Inside you. Fucking antibodies!_

Spock continued to ramble on but McCoy could only focus on finding a plasma separator from the cabinets.

“What are you searching for, Doctor?” Spock was irritated the man was slamming drawers and cabinet doors instead of paying attention.

“Antibodies, Spock. I’m sure I’ve been exposed but I haven’t gotten sick. Same with the other humans who’ve only had mild symptoms or none at all.”

Spock finally understood, ”You wish to devise a treatment based on people who have already defeated the virus?”

“Well yeah. It’s certainly faster than developing a vaccine. I know we’ve come a long way in the last few centuries but making a vaccine isn’t something that happens by magic. Got it!”

McCoy wasted no time in peeling off his gloves and shoving his shirtsleeve to his elbow.

“Maybe you should—”

Any second thought from the Vulcan was rendered moot once McCoy jammed the collection device to the crook of his elbow. It took several minutes for the collection chamber to fill up with several milliliters of the straw colored liquid. It was a serum from Khan’s plasma that saved Jim, and it could be the same kind of answer that would save the infected crew. McCoy labeled the vial and set it down carefully in a tube rack. He loaded a well plate under the microscope with samples of the virus he’d collected from various people and carefully pipetted microliters of his plasma into each of the wells.

Spock pushed the microscope’s display to the large screen in the room. The software automatically displayed a cell that showed activity. Both scientists studied the screen intently as antibodies from McCoy’s plasma bound themselves to the outside of the virion. 

“Hand me that—“ McCoy absentmindedly waved to a container of a generic human cell stock solution.

Spock kept any comments about the doctor’s unspecific request and handed him the bottle he knew was needed. McCoy pulled a micropipette off the carousel and pulled up the tiniest amounts of stock solution and injected minuscule droplets into the wells. The results were nearly instantaneous as the encapsulated virions bumped into the human cells and were unable to latch onto the cell walls.

“Holy shit!”

“Doctor—“

McCoy hastily prepared another well plate and swapped it out under the viewer. They saw the same results.

“Spock—“

“We need to increase testing of the antibodies and—“

“Start collecting plasma for donation.”

“Doctor McCoy, I do believe you have found a solution.”

###

“Was the convalescent plasma therapy effective?” an impossibly young admiral finally spoke.

McCoy finally relaxed just a hair, “Yes, sir. We saw a statistically relevant recovery in those that were treated with plasma from the recovered and seemingly immune humans.”

“It is such an antiquated treatment.“

“It is, but I’m an old sawbones so what can I say?” McCoy interrupted. “We immediately began soliciting the human crew for plasma donations after it was confirmed they had the required antibodies. The _Nightingale_ actually did most of the legwork collecting the plasma and running the safety screens.”

###

“Almost done, Doctor McCoy,” a nurse paused by the instrument next to the biobed he was reclined on as she made her way around the bay on the _Nightingale._

McCoy muttered ‘thanks’ and peered over at the collection bag slowly filling up with his plasma from a needle in the crook of his elbow. He gave the rubber ball in his outstretched hand a squeeze for good measure. He looked around the bay he was in and every biobed was occupied with some person in various stages of donating their plasma. Once he had shared his results with the experts from the other ship they immediately began testing patients who were less ill and able to give their consent to the experimental treatment. By their calculations the plasma had lessened the severity and duration of the influenza by two days. It wasn’t the cure all they had hoped for but it was still a positive result, and better than nothing. Uhura had been among the first to accept the treatment and among the first to recover enough to finish her convalescence in Spock’s quarters.

“All done, sir,” the nurse was back to him on her constant rotation among the donors.

McCoy eyed the full bag that hung off the collection device. He grunted as she pulled the needle and placed pressure on the site with a wad of gauze.

“Sorry, sir. It’ll be sore for a few hours,” she quickly lifted the gauze and placed a dermal regenerator over the leaking vein.

“Can I have that bag when you’re done with the screens?”

The nurse was confused.

“Just humor me?” McCoy didn’t want to explain himself to the junior officer.

“Uh, yes, sir. Just stay here and I’ll go process it now.”

McCoy nodded and leaned back into the biobed’s mattress while the nurse scurried off the bag.

“Hey Doc!” Scotty strode into the bay rolling up a sleeve.

“Hey, Scotty,” McCoy swung his feet off the side.

“Just finished?” the engineer eyed the contraption next to the biobed.

“Yep, waiting for the bag now.”

“Aye, that’s bonnie.”

“Donating?”

“Absolutely, wouldnae miss it for the galaxy.”

“Are you even rested enough to donate?” McCoy’s eyebrow arched.

“Ach, look at yerself then.”

McCoy had a retort loaded but the nurse came back with the treated and screened bag of plasma.

“One order to go, sir,” the nurse was more amused at her own joke than the officers.

McCoy stepped to the floor and took the bag. He saw Scotty give him an inquisitive look but kept any comments to himself.

“This’ll be your spot,” the nurse motioned for the engineer to take the recently vacated biobed.

“Wish Jim the best from those of us in Engineerin’.”

“Will do,” McCoy said with a nod and left to the yelp of the chief engineer after he saw the size of the needle that was to be used on him.

McCoy clutched the bag of plasma as if Jim’s life depended on it, and it did, as he headed across the bridge between the ships and to the rec room on the _Enterprise_. The makeshift ward in the rec room had begun to thin out, but Jim had been unable to be moved to the sickbays that were still full.

“Leonard,” a more rested looking M’Benga greeted the man after he came through the airlock.

“Hey Geoff,” a sudden weariness dragged him down into his boots and the deck. 

“The Captain?” the other doctor’s eyes looked down to the bag of honey fluid.

McCoy nodded.

“No change, we just proned him about an hour ago.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”

The exhausted physicians went about their way with a silent understanding between them. McCoy easily made his way to Jim’s side and hung the bag on the overcrowded IV stand.

“I can do that, boss,” Chapel was suddenly at his side.

“I got it,” he already had the bag connected to a line and set its drip rate.

“How soon before we know?”

McCoy swallowed, “I’m not sure with the critical ones.”

“Shout if you need anything,” Chapel left with an encouraging pat on his arm.

Finally as alone as he could be with Jim, he sunk to the low stool next to the cot. The captain was on his stomach with his swollen face turned towards McCoy with the tube still protruding from his lips and his arm with the IV lines outstretched at an angle next to his head. McCoy desperately wanted to see the electric blue hidden behind eyelids that had been taped shut. He didn’t care who saw him at this point and reached for Jim’s hand. 

The swollen fingers were warm and pliant as he grasped them with his gloved hand, “Sorry darlin’; I’m here now.”

###

“Were more infections seen?” Donaldson asked without looking up from his data pad.

“Yes sir we had several dozen more crew members become infected but they were but they were immediately treated with convalescent plasma and typically discharged to recover in their own quarters.”

“And the status of the crew now?” 

“The _Nightingale_ stayed with us for a few more days until we were down to just the main and auxiliary bays at capacity. They also took the folks that were recovering more slowly with them and headed here for us to pick up when we got here. That was maybe a week ago?”

The admirals nodded so he must’ve been close enough to being correct.

“Have you finished the data packet to be handed over to the Medical Corps?”

McCoy reddened, when was he supposed to have had the time to write up a report?

“Please see that it’s completed in a timely fashion. They’ll need to start on a vaccine as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This session is adjourned for today. We’ll reconvene at 0800 tomorrow morning after we’ve had time to digest the information presented here. Are there any questions Doctor McCoy?”

He paused to think, “Were outbreaks seen elsewhere?”

The panel stopped their shuffling.

“You didn’t hear?”

Now he was confused, “No, sir?”

“There was an outbreak at the starbase you departed from as well as four other ships, three Starfleet and one civilian, that overlapped with your time there.”

McCoy was stunned, “How many people?”

Donaldson’s face softened, “It was worse than on your own ship, Leonard. Yours was, by far, the largest vessel affected but most equipped.”

The group filed out of the room, leaving him there still trying to process the news.

“Leonard?”

He whipped around to see Uhura leaning against a chair, “What the hell are you doing here? You should be resting.”

Uhura, dressed in comfortable looking civvies, rolled her eyes. She looked rather well even though the brightness that was usually in her eyes was gone.

“Please, if I have to be cooped up in that room with Spock waiting on me hand and foot for another moment...I needed some time away so I came to find you.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow and the communications officer broke in a second.

“Okay, Kirk may have said you could use some company on the walk back to the ship. I left Spock to tire him out for you.”

“He’s supposed to be resting,” McCoy nestled the woman’s hand in his bent arm.

“They are unless chess is suddenly a full contact sport,” Uhura let the doctor support her as they left the briefing room on the station.

“You never know with Jim.”

The walk back to the ship’s berth was slow, the lieutenant wasn’t quite up to her normal brisk pace and they did stop at a beverage stall for coffee and tea. 

“Hey guys,” they ran into Sulu and Chekov on their way to use the station’s recreation facilities at the entry gate when they arrived at the _Enterprise._

“Where are you two off to?” McCoy scowled.

“To the Parrises squares courts,” Chekov said excitedly.

Uhura preemptively winced as she felt the CMO stiffen under her hand.

“It doesn’t matter how much you helped us with the virus, I’m leaving both of you here if you break any bones.”

Chekov’s face fell and Sulu dragged him away before he could change his mind about the game.

“Damn idiots. That game is barbaric and should be outlawed,” McCoy ranted.

Uhura easily tuned out his continued ravings as they made their way back to the captain’s quarters. McCoy keyed in the code Jim had given him so he no longer had to abuse his CMO override. They made their way to the sleeping area and found Jim reclined on a mound of pillows with Spock seated in a chair at his side, and a bedside table holding the chessboard between the two of them. 

“Almost done, Bones,” Jim’s voice was wheezy despite the help from the oxygen he received from a cannula in his nostrils that came from a portable tank on the floor by the bed.

“Take your time,” McCoy deposited Uhura on the edge of the bed next to Spock.

“He’s right,” Uhura looked at the chessboard.

“I’m not much of an opponent right now.”

“I have enjoyed the game nonetheless,” Spock made the first of many options he could play to put Jim’s king in check.

“That’s being polite,” Jim made a perfunctory move to go ahead and let Spock end the match.

“Checkmate,” Spock took the king.

“Told you so,” Jim lethargically placed his few captured pieces in the box. “How did it go?”

McCoy unzipped his stiff gray dress jacket and tossed it on the foot of the bed, “The same as always, dissectin’ every decision you made and disapprovin’ despite not having been in the situation. They adjourned for the day to ‘digest’ the information.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Bones.”

“Yeah, but that never stops people from thinking they could’ve done better.”

“Doctor McCoy, your response was quicker and more effective than the others.”

“You knew?”

“Knew what?” Jim asked.

“We weren’t the only ones hit with it. The starbase and a few other ships had it on board too.”

“While the infection rate was 30.4% higher on the _Enterprise_ the mortality rate was 40.2% lower than the other affected vessels.”

“I’m sorry, Bones,” Jim could see the man’s anguish.

Jim had a look McCoy knew all too well, “Did you know?”

“Only afterwards. Command never said anything before we got the _Nightingale._ ”

“Why didn’t the other ships get help?”

“The _Clara Barton_ was in dry dock and the _Sanger_ was engaged on the other side of the galaxy.”

“So they sent us the only mercy ship?

“It appears so, Doctor McCoy.”

McCoy wanted to boil with rage after the condescending comments made to him about rationing care when the brass had done the very same thing by sending the only available medical ship to them instead of the other less equipped ships. 

“We should give them some time,” Uhura eyed Spock.

“Of course. Thank you, Jim, for the game,” Spock collected the board. “A pleasant evening, Leonard and Jim.”

“Night guys,” Uhura held onto Spock as they left for Spock’s quarters.

Jim’s door slid shut and McCoy plopped wearily into the chair vacated by Spock.

“You can sit on the bed, I don’t bite.”

“I know, but we need dinner and if I lay down I’m not going to want to get back up.”

McCoy grabbed the underside of Jim’s outstretched wrist in a familiar bad habit of his. 

“I promise I’m okay, Bones,” Jim twisted his hand to grab McCoy’s.

“I know. Your O2 level feels okay? I can turn the flow up—“

“Booooones,” Jim rolled his eyes.

McCoy pulled back sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“If you brood any harder steam will come out of your ears.”

“I know, it’s just been one of those days.”

“They’re not going to punish you or anything.”

“I don’t care about that, Jim. It’s just so many people…We barely handled it as it was. Those other ships didn’t have the crew we have or the _Nightingale_. She should’ve been sent to help them instead. I bet we got her because we’re the newest toy. No one should get special treatment, Jim. That’s not how you’re supposed to triage.”

“Not everyone in Starfleet shares our opinions, and I know how much it must’ve torn you up to have to decide who got what little you had. Thank you for not treating me any different.”

“I know, it just—“

“Sucks.”

“Yeah,” McCoy sat despondently. 

The two men passed in a companionable silence before McCoy’s hunger got the better of him; he was only given a short recess for his lunch.

“Alright, I want you to do another breathing treatment while I go to the mess.”

Jim wanted to whine but dutifully switched the oxygen tubing to a mask on the bedside table and sealed it to his face. It was one less thing he could do to make McCoy’s day harder. He relaxed into the soft pillows and breathed deeply at the medicated vapors.

“Be right back with dinner, darlin’” McCoy leaned over to plant a light kiss on Jim’s forehead.

###

“This inquiry is called to order,” Admiral Donaldson bellowed to the reassembled panel and McCoy.

McCoy snapped to attention.

“At ease,” the admirals took their seats and McCoy eased his stance at the lectern.

McCoy tried to read their faces to get any kind of clue about how this was about to turn out for him. Jim had repeatedly reminded him this morning as he dressed that he had nothing to worry about and to try to let go of the anger he harbored against them. For someone so brash and reckless, Jim could smooth his ruffled feathers better than anyone else. He was such a sap for those bright blue eyes and smirk.

“...after deliberating the information presented yesterday and the information gathered from elsewhere we have directed Starfleet Core R&D to begin developing a vaccine against this previously unknown influenza immediately. Doctor McCoy, you are to be assigned as a remote member of this team and you are to prepare all of your experimental findings at once to hand over to the new team. You are also assigned to work remotely with the Medical Corps infectious disease oversight team to develop and refine the procedures for the handling of shipboard infectious events. We’re particularly keen on integrating your equipment mass production protocols into our current practices.”

_Fuck, more work._

“In addition we have also submitted a recommendation for a commendation.”

“What for?” he blurted it out.

The Surgeon General was not amused at the interruption, “For your work going above and beyond to contain the viral threat and treat the crew with as little loss of life as you did. You were placed in an impossible circumstance beyond your doing and responded in an exemplary manner.”

McCoy only nodded, it still felt like a failure losing those people in his ship and the others.

“I know it wasn’t easy, Doctor McCoy, but you did a great job and we thank you for it. Your ship is lucky to have someone with your skill and expertise as their CMO.”

“Thank you, sir,” their gratitude was hard to swallow but he took it.

“That is all for now. This inquiry is adjourned.”


End file.
